


Weep for Me Omega

by HermaeusMora21



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alien Biology, Alien Character(s), Alien Culture, Alien Gender/Sexuality, Alien Sex, Anal Sex, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Dealing, Drug Induced Events, Drug Use, Drunk Sex, Dysfunctional Family, F/F, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Gender Neutral Pronouns - Asari, Gun Violence, M/M, Mother-Son Relationship, Multi, Multiple Partners, Organized Crime, Other, Pseudo-Incest, Psychological Torture, Public Sex, Rape, Rough Sex, Sex, Sexual Tension, Smoking, Suffering, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, Underage Prostitution, Underage Sex, Underage Smoking, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence, Violent Sex, Weirdness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 08:00:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3439586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermaeusMora21/pseuds/HermaeusMora21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raine's life was never easy. He never knew his father, and his mother was a drug addicted Stripper/prostitute in some club in the lower bowels of Omega. Before he was even nine years old he had committed theft and seen murder and rape, However, his life would eventually take a turn for the better. This is the story of a man who went from a victim of Omega's system to one of Aria T'Loak's most trusted advisers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> All works, pictures, etc on that I will be writing about or using are property of their original creator. I am just writing stories for some fun and no profit whatsoever. The stories themselves might be from my head, but all original characters, etc belong to their original creators. Just a fan here. Seriously, no harm EVER intended.
> 
> Also, love constructive criticism. However, if you flame or troll I will ignore the hit out of you. On the other hand if you have something interesting or meaningful to tell me please feel free!

**Prelude**

         Emptiness, pain, and nightmares are all symptoms one must endure when they live on Omega, if they’re weak. If they possess callousness, vicious behavior, indifference, and ruthless greed they tend to be the symptoms of Omega. The young, old, sickly, and otherwise weak will either be get enslaved, die, or even worth quickly here. No one looks out for them on this station, and those that do more than likely have an ulterior motive.

         In Omega everyone fills some kind of niche. There are muscle and the more military minded individuals who run them. The highest rings of these groups are the Blood Pack, Blue Suns, and Eclipse. There are a few do-gooders, but they tend to not last too long unless they have some viciousness to them to fight back with. There are also the victims on Omega. This particular group makes up a surprisingly small portion of the population. Most people on this station are unpleasant to start with, and they are able to handle most of the atrocities that you would see daily. Then you also have people who fulfill the more carnal desires of the station’s inhabitants.

         Then atop all of these people you have Aria and her organization. This is where I would eventually end up; standing behind Aria, and next to her daughter, and with a good portion of her organization behind my back. At twenty one years of age I had managed to secure myself at the top of this varren pit, and it hadn’t been easy.


	2. Chapter One: A Talk, a Murder, and an Abandonment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: graphic sexual and violent content in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All works, pictures, etc on that I will be writing about or using are property of their original creator. I am just writing stories for some fun and no profit whatsoever. The stories themselves might be from my head, but all original characters, etc belong to their original creators. Just a fan here. Seriously, no harm EVER intended.
> 
> Also, love constructive criticism. However, if you flame or troll I will ignore the hit out of you. On the other hand if you have something interesting or meaningful to tell me please feel free!

**Chapter One**

         Omega could have very well been my grave. I was weak, frightened, and young; however I was good with people. That was my salvation I can get just about anyone do what I ask, depending on the situation of course. For example, one time when I was six I didn’t have even enough cash to eat that night. So, I waited outside a speeder kiosk, and spotted a part for a decently priced engine that was on sale near the front. When I knew no one was looking I crept up to the booth and swiped it with my right hand as I kept walking down the bazaar. However, I also knew that in the market district there was a batarian male who sold used speeders and parts – for a special reduced price - and would willing to pay a little bit for this in exchange for not asking how a kid got a hold of a part like this. When I went to sell it all of his eyes went wide, and a smile popped up on his face; however, I wasn’t a stupid, naive kid like he assumed. I noticed his head tilt to the right, and I had lived long enough on Omega to know what that means for batarians.

         He probably figured he just hit gold because I was just a starving human child; something he undoubtedly thought was far beneath him. Yet, when I walked away I had a fistful of credits and a grin plastered across my whole face. Apparently, with an arrogant batarian merchant on Omega, flattery followed by veiled insinuating lies that your father was in the Blue Suns is an easy way to get a better deal. If he had seen through me I have a feeling that talk would have went far differently.

         I’m still not sure why he didn’t see me for the starving brat I was. After this I would eventually come to know him better, and I am still confounded by the fact he cut me a break. The bastard wasn’t known for it, and I was an easy mark looking back. So, in this case whether it was my charm, his whimsy, or both I can’t really say. However, one important fact about lying and coercing that I feel I must share after all of my experience in the field is that for a good lie is to know enough so that; if say someone asks you who your fictitious father works under, you can bullshit him into believe he is a small time local enforcer. Situations like this would end up bringing me attention as I grew up, some of it good and more often bad.

         When I was nine my mother left me in the market district outside of the human quarter with only fifteen credits and the clothes on my back. Looking back I can’t say I’m surprised. She told me when I was little that she was an ‘exotic dancer’ at a local club and not at an _upscale_ one, like Afterlife. No, she was one of those dancers from some dark corner club whose entrance is hidden in an alley with minimal lighting in order to hide the myriad of fluid stains that cover the alley. I went there once with her because she had forgotten a jacket or something in the dressing room and didn’t remember until she got home. To this day I do don’t understand why she had to bring me that day. There isn’t really night or day on Omega, so just because her day was ending that didn’t make it night. Maybe it was a moment of parental care? Although, where we were going and what happened there make me highly doubt that. She was most likely just so damned high on red sand that she didn’t even know what she was doing.

         When we got to the club I didn’t see the entrance at first, but when she knocked on a door and a scarred batarian thug in a simple leather combat outfit opened the door; he wasn’t really meant for muscle in hindsight, just the tough guy at the front to deter undesirables. However, when he opened the door thick miasma of smoke rolled out of the entrance. It bit at my throat and stung my nose. It was a wet, wretched mist to my young nose and eyes. That should have tipped me off as to the kind of place I was about to enter, but what eight-year-old child expects to know what the inside of a strip club, slash brothel, is supposed to be like?

         When we walked through the door the lighting changed dramatically. The various lights outside were replaced with darkness as the thug closed the door. After a couple seconds I was slowly able to see as I followed my mother. There were harsh red lights coming from what looked like lines around the corners of the floor and ceiling, and the smoke seemed to be a mixture of stage props and drugs. The scent hit me again even harder than before. It smelled of sweat, booze, smoke, and a scent I would later know to be the raw scent of repeated sex. The entire place reeked as if had been used for years, even decades, of continuous sex. As we walked back to the rear of the place I noticed the girls on stage. I lived on Omega and I wasn’t stupid. I had seen naked women before either on a vid, neon billboard, or even prostitutes and strippers standing outside trying to invite potential customers in. However, a fully nude strip show – and not one for the faint of heart – did manage to rattle my young head. There were four stages in the main room, and each one was taken when we walked in.

         It must have been a busy night for them because it seemed like every other seat was fully and there were a men walking down the hallway we were heading towards. Looking back on it that was not the wildest club I’ve ever been to on Omega, for performance. The women on-stage were mostly alone and trying to lure potential customers for a dance. Now, if you want to talk about wild clubs there would be a club simply named ‘Lust’ I went to later in life with a friend after work where they had a live sex show called ‘The Krogan Rebellion;’ in which a male turian and a male krogan were literally fist-fighting naked in a quasi-rape show. However, that is a story for another time.

         Once we passed the wall of naked flesh that drifted through the room and reached the end of the main room, we began walking down a hallway that split off in both directions, we went right. I noticed that the hallway had enclaves taken out on both sides for what looked like private dances. There were no doors so as we passed along I got a look at the girls, human and asari, and what they were doing. It was wild to me at the time, but it was just for those guys who didn’t want to pay for more than just a dance.

         The most horrifying portion of this experience on my young mind had yet to come though. We took a left at the end of that hallway and while we walked along here I noticed there were closed doors on the left side of the hall, and chairs on the right. One or two of those chairs look like they were taken by more thugs and bouncers of different species. When we got to the end of the hall I recognized this sealed off area as a management and dressing area from the signs. My mother walked right up to a spot with a crappy little, black, composite chair and a slightly faded mirror and I realized that was where she got dressed for these shows. It was still disturbing to wrap my mind around the idea of my mother doing what these other women were; even if I only had minimal affection towards her by that point in my life. Yes, she was far from an affectionate mother, but still, the thought of her naked on one of those stages made my young stomach curl.

         As she was picking up her stuff a human man walked up to her. He was probably in his fifties. His hair was starting to recede a bit, forming a widow’s peak, and the grey was already flaked throughout his hair. His face was hard and hard to look at. It was saggy around the eyes which looked like they had been roughly carved into his face. His cheeks didn’t have that same sag, but that didn’t do much for his overall look. He didn’t make me afraid the same way the batarian or krogan thugs from the hallway did, but I knew he was just as rotten; if not more.

         “Hey Sarah there’s a client of yours who wants to know if you’re interested in giving him the ‘private room experience.’ I know you’re off the clock, but money is money right?” The craggy faced man asked my mother with a catch in his voice that sounded like old flem.

“Sure, money is money. Which client?” My mother replied in a tired yet flippant tone.

“Krom. He said he’s on his way and will be here in a few minutes,” the man told my mother in matter-the-fact tone.

         “Fine, you think you can get someone to watch after my kid for the hour Max?” My mother asked while pointing her right thumb at me. I could tell she was only asking so that I wouldn’t cause her problems, or money, rather than for my safety; which was smart on her part because I had no interest in staying in this perpetual hell-hole a moment longer. I had more important things to do then sit here as my mother went to go dance for some dirt bag. Back then I supplied the majority of my own stuff by picking pockets and trading things.

“Sure, I’ll have Sarek look after him,” Max replied. My mother walked out of the dressing room with only a glancing nod back, and Max walked up to me.

         “Come on brat. Go sit on a chair near the batarian with the scar under his chin,” the man said to me with little care and a shooing motion. I walked out and looked at the chairs and it looked like there was only one of the thugs sitting there now. He was a massive batarian in thick, red, dented armor with spikes decorating its shoulders, forearms, knuckles, calves, and boots. He had a large shotgun attached to his hip, and two thick serrated knives that appeared to be a cross of a butcher knife and cleaver that were strapped to each of his calves. I shuddered to think what he could do with those in close quarters.

         His face was severely scarred under his chin. It started from the nape of his neck, where the armor stopped, and crawled up his neck along his jugular. Then, it split of into a fork with one half creeping up towards his chin and almost touching his lip while the other half split off towards his ear. Whatever had made it had probably torn off the lower part of his face when it had happened to him. I didn’t have a clue how someone could survive a wound like that, but here he was. His four eyes were focused on a curved knife in his hands. It resembled a thin, sharp talon, and it was about four or five inches long in length. He seemed to be twirling it around when I suddenly heard him say “sit down kid” with a clipped gravelly voice before tucking the knife into his belt. Batarians usually have more gravelly voices than humans, like the merchant, but his sounded like a mixture of a deep gravel and someone taking his taloned knife and dragging it on metal. I did as he said as quickly as I could because in my eight-year-old life no being had ever terrified me that much before. For days afterward I would have nightmares about this batarian. Furthermore, I had a sinking feeling that even I wouldn’t be able to sweet talk this guy.

         I sat there for a couple minutes until I spotted another batarian come walking down the hallway. What surprised me was that the people in the lobby had mostly been humans as customers, and a couple batarians and krogans as protection. He was rather tall and shared that greenish hide they had. His four eyes seemed almost lazy to me. He walked down the hall to Sarek, and I overheard him asked where my mother was. Sarek led him two doors down where my mother had gone and opened the door for him.

         When he got back to the seat next to me he seemed to relax a bit more than he was before. He probably thought I was going to be pestering him for food or entertainment the entire time, but then again looking the way he does I’m sure most kids my age would have shat themselves. After about 5 minutes of sitting there in complete silence, other than the echoes of electronic music with a deep, throbbing bass from the main room, Sarek started to get fidgety.

         “What’s your name brat?” I heard growl out in a bored tone from the seat next to me. I knew the voice from when he told me to sit down, but when I had heard it again for the second time I was dumbstruck with a terrified panic. When he told me to sit down all I had to do was nod and follow orders, but now this batarian, Sarek, actually expected me to talk with him. To my young eyes he was as terrifying as any devil from some story, but the difference was I could see him. He was real. Looking back even now I have to admit he was one tough looking son-of-a-bitch.

“Bro…” I stumbled. I wasn’t able to get more the first syllable out. I was paralyzed by fear, and I think he honestly found it hilarious; in his own way.

         “I hope there’s more to that name kid. Otherwise that’s just pathetic. Sarah must have been high on sand when you were born,” he said at a slow even pace. The corner of his lips on the side of his scarring seemed to rise a little into a smirk; the effect was terrifying.

“Broehain. My name is Broehain,” I had managed to clip out in almost a squeak.

         “Fuck kid. That’s almost as bad. Only short names I can make with that are ‘Bro’ or ‘Haine.’ Sarah really did fuck that up,” he said with more earnest amusement. His smirk had died down and both sides of his mouth were slightly curved upward. I was able to tell he was at least in a good mood now; even if it was from trash talking my name. Honestly, the fear in younger me subsided, and I really just pissed me off. I may have been smooth when I was younger, but I lacked the control that screwing up teaches you.

         “Some people call me Raine since they don’t like pronouncing my whole name. Rather than being a dick you could just ask, you know,” I told him whole looking away and with a sourness seeping into my voice. The moment it had slipped out of my mouth I had instantly regretted it. He hadn’t been violent or downright cruel yet; only a bit of a shit. So, after a second of silence I looked over to him, and I saw a perplexed look on his face. His head was tilted slightly to the right, not good, but he had an amused look on his face; which is weird for a batarian. For batarians you don’t transgress against someone of higher social value. Then again this was Omega.

         “You got guts for such a young brat. Try not to piss off the wrong guy and have them spilled on the floor,” he told me with a smirk before leaning back in his chair and focusing on the spikes across the knuckles of his glove. I knew we were done talking the moment he settled into staring at the clocks above each of the doors on the other side of the hallway.

         He fixed his eyes on the door to his left. Right above the entrance there was a little clock counting down and it had less than a minute left on the count. Once he saw that all four of his eyes seemed to focus in on the numbers. When it hit zero Sarek seemed to shift a little in his seat, and after a few seconds of waiting he started to look on edge. Then, when I finally noticed irritation set into his face he stood up. As a human child sitting down and looking up at him I wasn’t sure if I was more impressed or frightened.

         He pounded on the door loudly with a massive, meaty, spiked fist. He waited another moment before he activated a switch on his omnitool that opened all of the doors in the hall and gave me a good view of the inside. The room was empty other than a single bed in the middle of the room, and the room itself was small. The lighting was brighter than in the main room, but it still had that red glow to it. However, the smoke that was throughout the rest of the complex didn’t seem to be present either.  This only helped me focus in on the scene in front of me. I saw a human male, probably in his mid to late twenties, on top of a very young human girl; either barley an adult or not quite there yet. I knew enough about the world to know that they were having sex, but from the scene of his left arm pinning her down and his right hand pushing roughly down on her mouth, and the fact that Sarek had barged in; I knew that this was no longer consensual prostitution but instead; rape. For one moment the only sound I could hear, other than the omnipresent club music in the background, was the rough wild slapping of flesh on flesh and angry grunting mixed with muffled screaming.

         To be honest that was sloppy for an Omega club. Muffled rooms are meant for privacy, but you need some kind of security system to maintain protection of the people you are employing. This of course wasn’t my thought back then, but looking back as someone who has managed clubs I have to say it was sloopy. Having someone like Sarek nearby is smart, but you need to be able to monitor the safety of your workers at all times. Although, it probably wasn’t worth it to Max. Difference of opinion, but if you’re running a quality place, for Omega, girls won’t want to work for you under those conditions.

         Almost as soon as Sarek took a step forward into the room he grabbed ahold of one of the man’s legs and yanked back, with what I’m guessing was a good portion of his strength, and pulled the man’s leg so loud that I thought he might rip it off. The man flew backward, and in his attempt to stop his sudden flight he only managed to tumble out of the room; almost hitting me. As I looked into the room I realized, to my horror that the woman wasn’t moving. There were tears running down her face with cuts and purplish bruising checkered across her body, and the only way I could tell that she wasn’t dead was that her bare chest was rising and falling so faintly that I barely saw it.

         Sarek apparently saw the same thing because as soon as he figured out she was alive he turned his attention to the man crumpled on the metallic floor next to me. I skidded to my right to avoid whatever was about to happen. The sight of Sarek towering over the naked man curled up in pain next to me was a clear visual of how this situation was about to play out. I turned my head to the right, something I have regretted for years since, and I accidentally saw into my mother’s room. When Sarek opened the emergency switch he opened all of the doors, but neither my mother nor the batarian man had noticed. The situation was very similar to the other room; although consensual.

         To this day I can vividly remember that image. My mother was on her hands and knees on the bed and the batarian man was behind her. From what I saw, and know afterwards, batarian men are, on average, slightly bigger than human males when it comes to penis size. The average human is around five and a half inches in length; opposed to batarians who average around seven inches. I’m guessing Krom here was on the bigger end of that average, and to accommodate that increase in length they were having anal sex. However, at eight years old I hadn’t known you could have sex like that; which added to my confusion and horror at the time. In Krom’s left hand my mother’s long hair was wrapped up around his fist, and his right hand was digging into the right side of her naked waist. This was also the first, yet sadly not the last, time I ever saw my mother naked as well.

         It felt like forever that I stood there watching in sickening horror, and I have no idea how long it truly was. However, my attention was forced away from that scene as I heard Sarek struggle with the human in front of me. Apparently the man had grabbed one of the butcher like knives and slashed him along his calf with it. The struggle from the fighting seemed to snap the other nearby people, including my mother, out of whatever they were doing. I tried to walked backward as quickly as I could because their fight seemed to be everywhere. I had thought Sarek would win hands down, but now that I saw how big the human was I knew it was going to take some work for Sarek to deal with him; especially since he’d been wounded. Although, on the other hand a naked human against a fully armed batarian with what looks like battle experience was kind of a no brainer for who would win.

         Sarek suddenly pushed the man backward against the wall on the side without doors and pulled out his shotgun. The man tumbled backward a few feet and stood up in the hallway. Sarek was between me and him, but I was off to the side so I could still see the entire scene. Inside the narrow hallway the sound from the gun thundered like an explosive, and when the round hit the man it tore through his flesh with an ease that reminded me of fruit exploding when it is hit with a bat. His body was hurled backward and blood sprayed down both directions of the hall. Bits of his flesh and bone were wrought from his body and scattered about. A good amount of this even flew towards me, and the sensation of warm, wet pieces of flesh slowly sliding its way down my face sent my mind into overload and then shutdown. I turned to my mother and I saw a bit of shocked horror in her eyes, but it was dulled as if this wasn’t the first or last time she’d witness this. My memory starts to blank out after this. The combination of witnessing a rape, my mother selling her body for credits, getting a full on view of her doing so in ways that confused and horrified me, a man exploding, and then to top it off looking back at my mother and seeing blood running down her thighs all sent me into a meltdown.

         I remember my mother getting mad at me for some reason. I think she blamed me and said something like I ended her session early or she lost some money or something else. The main afterthought pounding through my head for days after this was: is my father was one of these people? Was he just another scumbag that Sarek wiped off the face of the galaxy? I never did find out. A prostitute with a penchant for red sand, alcohol, and beating her kid didn’t make the best mother, and that day was only one example of much she didn’t care about me. Years after this Aria T’Loak would ask me every now and then what made me such a ‘broken little shit.’ I think that this day might have been that final straw.

         So, there I was in the market district with absolutely no clue what to do. I knew I would never see her again, and the fact I never did is disturbing thinking on it now. After all she would be the kind of woman who would show up again asking for some credits or a favor once she realized I had actually done something with myself. She never had much pride, so she would have definitely done that, but seeing as I never heard even whispers about her I would hazard a guess that she died, either at the hands of one of her clients at the club or from the red sand, sometime after leaving me. But whispers were my trade, and this left me with a nagging fear in my mind up until now; one last gift from my mother I suppose.


	3. Chapter Three: A New Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All works, pictures, etc on that I will be writing about or using are property of their original creator. I am just writing stories for some fun and no profit whatsoever. The stories themselves might be from my head, but all original characters, etc belong to their original creators. Just a fan here. Seriously, no harm EVER intended.
> 
> Also, love constructive criticism. However, if you flame or troll I will ignore the hit out of you. On the other hand if you have something interesting or meaningful to tell me please feel free!

**Chapter Three**

         Being a nine-year-old, bastard, now abandoned, son of a likely deceased hooker and some piece of crap thug was generally not accepted as a safe occupation on Omega. I knew I would die within a day or two if I didn’t find somewhere safe to lay my head and get some food. There was little law on Omega so I knew I might be able to find work, despite my age, and then I remembered that batarian vendor from when I was younger. I remembered that after I finished selling the part to him we ended on friendly terms. Plus, with the way I am with people I shouldn’t have a problem being selling stuff, and if my memory serves he wouldn’t object to having someone who could steal things, discreetly of course, from others. So, I walked for a few hours and eventually found him, and it was ultimately for the best decision I could have possibly made as it changed my life for the better in ways I never would have guessed.

         The market was absolutely packed with every species known to the galaxy. Due to my height it was rather hard to get my bearings through that sea of people. Yet, I eventually found what I was looking for, and I was happy to notice that he wasn’t all that busy at the moment. Walking up to the speeder kiosk, the smell of fuel and old metals crashed against my nose, and I made the decision to limit my time around such smells whenever possible in the future. Hell, the club smelled better to me back then that that store. However, when the batrarian caught my image coming into view a light smirk slowly appeared on his face.

“Got something you’d like to hock boy?” he asked expectantly.

         “In a way,” I replied. I let a playful smile pull at the corners of my mouth. If I was going to get this job I’d have to be careful because screwing up meant that I would most likely die in a really bad way. So, I had to pull on my knowledge of how to work people, and pray to the gods of Omega to not let me die.

         “Whatcha mean? Do you or don’t you?” he asked with his brows crumpling together lightly. I could tell he wasn’t so much annoyed as he was confused. He was a business man, and the last time I came here I made us both a decent chunk of money.

“Well, do you remember the last time I was here?” I inquired.

“Well obviously if I recognized you,” he replied with condescending sarcasm teetering into his voice. Wrong word choice I noted in my head.

         “Would you say that I was decent at being able to haggle with you for my age?” I asked while trying to let some innocent curiosity seep into my voice. It would be hard for anyone to believe I was innocent, but I had to try.

         “Hmm, you were alright,” he said with a little humor leaking into his voice, “you got more money out of me than I thought you would for your age, or maybe I’ve just grown a bit softer with age. Why?”

“Well, I kind of need a job at the moment,” I said. I let the words hang there for a moment, letting him get to the conclusion.

“And you thought of me?” He said with laughter now apparent in his voice, “why are you coming to me? Don’t you have parents?”

         “Well, see the problem with that is my father is kind of missing, and I was recently abandoned by my mother. And because you know me and that I know my way around people. Because at the moment it’s either get a job with you or with the Suns like my father,” keep up the lie “and because I think I would be able to help you out a little bit so you can focus more on making money and less on menial tasks,” I said In what felt like the longest breath of my life. Letting him know about my situation is risky, but I have a good feeling he isn’t the type to do anything based of it. He isn’t violent, I have nothing of value, and I have never gotten any unpleasant sexual vibes from him.  The gamble was whether or not it would pull on his heart—or purse—strings.

         “Let me get a look at you kid,” he said with a little more seriousness mow. At this point he is interested in at least me being a cleaning boy or something. Or at least I hope so. I knew I wasn’t all that to look at if you’re looking for someone to do labor for you. I wasn’t short, but I’ve never been taller than people my age either. My inky black hair was long and matted. It had sunk down to my shoulders and my electric blue eyes were surrounded by grime. My skin was pale and without many blemishes other than the dirt and grime from living on Omega, and I had a lone, thin scar that cut through the left side of my lip and down halfways to my jaw. I have an average build that’s not too meaty but not emaciated like others – I managed to keep myself fed. Hopefully he’ll think I’m at least worth keeping around.

         “You’re not all that impressive kid,” he said as my heart froze and then clenched as if someone had smashed it between two glaciers, “but you’ve got a little bit of spunk. So, you’ll at least be interesting to have around. You’re too young to help sell anything, but if you can clean and keep the storerooms in order I’ll hire you on,” he offered. Relief flooded through my veins as he spoke. I had never been this relieved before in my entire life. If I had gone to the Suns I would most likely have been used as target practice – or more unpleasant uses.

“Absolutely,” I said a little too quickly, “I can get to work immediately.”

         “Sounds good, you’ll get six credits per hour of work, and there’s a mat in the storeroom if you need a place to lie down. Which you look like you need to,” he replied. Six credits an hour was under what I was hoping to get, but this was not a time to haggle. I could tell this was his only offer.

         After we were done talking about what I would be doing as a houseboy and stocker he told me to get some sleep, and I would start in the morning. The place he mentioned in the storeroom was so small that I would say it resembled a large speeder on the inside, but the mat felt like heaven to me after an exhausting day. I was tired, and grateful for the meager bit of cushioning to lay my head down to sleep.

 

This is where my story begins.


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